Tuesday, July 28, 2020

beep eyes

how to keep mapping
all the very relative 
and slippery truths in this world
with a mind/heart like a ball
that rolls down certain slopes
no matter where I set it
bouncing off into the negative space
of conversations
and getting stuck there

in a dream smoking a fake cigarette
on a beach with punks
the roiling waves throw
huge green catfish onto the shore
some just missing us
slamming down dramatically

then a restaurant with radios on every table
that announce how close the holy spirit is
by degrees of latitude and longitude
when it gets within a certain range
everyone scrambles to reign in their sinful behavior

I’ve lost my appetite for complexity
as well as for breakfast
feels like there’s no time for theories
despite tomorrow
and tomorrow

Sunday, July 19, 2020

sunflower painted on a satellite dish

I’m 27 now

I wake up late

we drive to the water gap

mom calls me on the road  

Harry catches a fish big enough to eat

we are shocked

kill it with a stick

it all happened so fast

on the way home a flipped Penske truck blocks the on-ramp 

Harry runs over to assess the injured

keeps them talking until the ambulance shows up 

none of the cops have masks on

circumventing the accident 

I drive, more carefully now, down small roads

until we end up back in time

a Victorian main street

a burnt sugar smell

through cornfields, clover

sprinklers make giant arcs over the corn

a woman plays fetch with a cow

the sun sinks

sign for immaculate conception convent 

down a shadowy road

think about mom

back home Leks and Al come over 

with popsicles and wine

we melt on the balcony in the dark

using the skeleton hand bottle opener

suddenly feeling easy, present (drunk) 

sparkles on my plastic fan

catching the candle light

I’m 27 now

disproportionately hung over 

to what I drank

and mom writes to say she is in fact 

not pregnant sorry to have “worried” me

I wake up later and later

seeing the story 

back and back in time

seeing all the flip sides

ready file under “pain in the ass” 

and “just swallow”

Tuesday, July 14, 2020

who has acid

tomorrow is unclean
and I’m overcome
by “chance” by was 
by with

this week’s desire 
for alt punctuation

a sloppy/bold shape or
deep negative space 

one of these summer nights

w/ touch


I consider addiction
I dream of jail support
the vibe now is 
dead flowers

something has happened 
to dreaming 

like a blackout curtain

my hair grays in 2 streaks

I waste today in the shape 
      of a        dramatic bridge

approach addicted 
like dreams
my own bad balloon

its happy
hot air

Friday, July 10, 2020

drunk p

resort to play 
in L shapes 
towards      night love

full bottle and shirt bib the war 
on sub sis tence
the L as min imum
in lieu of 
the unfolding palace

sick of, hell

for fun

Tuesday, July 7, 2020


the way tomorrows stay clean
this inside trick 

a clean bone over and—

when my heart clicked
with the rest of me

a big dance hole
a rare deja-vu

the rest of me 
in assembly 

possessing Know

tomorrow, our virgin 
an essential skeleton
I'll translate

rounding the corner
under a gray sky

no one cares
about my excitement

pinning the tail 
on the decoy
the "rest of me"
the end
** ***********

Sunday, July 5, 2020


following Stanley’s trail of ripped newspaper
the first scrap I see says “dissecting” 
and the next one “Searching” 

I put my hand out the car window
palm facing up
in the side mirror I’m holding fireworks
and straight ahead
the full moon

this second covid world
is a shattered mirror
I point the sharp edges at myself 
and the letting go never stops

Stanley’s scraps aren’t a sign
those aren’t my fireworks
it’s not my moon
I flip my palm

Friday, July 3, 2020

santa cruz this time

wait but
the longing
is actually fresh

the clash of
configuring fantasies
on their respective tiers

the deserted island for instance

an uplifting,
flat-bed type of fun

the charred logs were
heels for a second
good for my dizzy eyes
to watch two birds fly

so close to
the water

the chill teen
pumps her fists

together, we
watch the surfers
one came
to kiss her

I envy everyone else's
beach experience
mine being laborious
insecure and

too gay
to pretend
the boy is mine

one beer
and I'm pissed
or auto-corrected, loaded
title, straight notes 
all these blonds in
relationships I'm gonna
head "home"

one tile in the stucco
one fried egg flower
strung like beads
behind me

two dead aliens
one was a bird and
one was pregnant
both insides out

password written
in shit

walked far with
my shirt full of fruit
the sign said "help"

more fried egg flowers

Sunday, June 28, 2020


at the bbq talking about trains
looking at an earwig

Tuesday, June 23, 2020

pepper's ghost

measuring days by the strip of sunlight
sliding across the balcony

looking forward to the church bells
at noon and then six

how summer melts time down
into one thick blurry memory

hot skull radiating
under the cold shower

I admire our friend
who volunteers at the test site all day

then swims in the schuylkill
smokes and drinks all night

online anatomy class is like a computer game
with satisfying green checkmarks

but I feel faint honestly
just looking at an x-ray of a spiral fracture

being a hologram is not unique
not negative, not positive

we are all that - shifting
reborn constantly

even a tattoo is only
as permanent as a person is

heavy cartoon 2

vivid dreams
of wet flowers
and hamburgers
woke up sick
from the game

scrolling thru for
who's into
soft moods

how hang ups
need company
singing, the hook 
on which everything hangs

the broken heart
in my recents,

forgot a pen
big despair!
big rot
veins of mold

too open to truth

the other beach earlier

the birds in a slow v
   a few slow v's

loving the curve of this
the curse of his
long long
to be in [it]
he put in my head
that I could be 
falling out

a solid, old shell

draw on my legs
with this pen and 

imagine you watching
while I run through everything

how later we say
I was going there all the time

Saturday, June 20, 2020


3rd person dream
where many karens
in big dumb sunglasses
are on 5th avenue
looking at their reflections
in shop windows
and screeching
when they find just
floating sunglasses
and track suits
no faces, no bodies
classic vampire style

Friday, June 19, 2020

heavy cartoon 1

the tragedy of love's

    addresses: written

I miss him and
knew this valley would come
the view from before, 
playing, high

no cool place for this mood,
the back of a truck

humbled by what clouds
share with fog
by going
room to room

forgetting waiting
just moving

they found this big egg
to study, like they say
in your own backyard

a sort of preconfiguration
to retrieve pleasure from bs
longing from fossils
we haven't even
turned the corner

Tuesday, June 16, 2020

never look back

losing and finding
my mind
reading about
the brain's tender mother
tree of life
and spider silk
losing and finding
myself stoned like
a cortical homunculus
that must explain
the feeling of very big
very far away
hands you could drive to
Mom said she
rolled her car
covered in oil
2 broken fingers
a somersault
in San Felipe
her dog jumped out
one of the open windows
and ran until she died
in the desert
crows circling
losing and finding
my mind she says
it's not madness
I was chosen 
for an interesting life
and so were you
I can't actually
feel anything
about it
lost and found
reading about the mountain
that eats men
the first city of capital
Potosi birthplace
of the dollar sign
what if I melt
my silver bracelets
and pour them back
into the earth
I don't know what's
most important
how to hold it all
my "brown" grandma
is the most racist
Mom says now it's 
just adding zeros 
in computers at least 
in the days of silver
and gold you could 
get the old coinage
stamped with the insignia 
of the new regime
I'm not brave
thinking only in
the radical present
because what if
there is no later
fearing a long
empty life or
death without 
meaning stuck
outside &
in between

Sunday, June 14, 2020

song of the summer

when longing

silence vs.
learning (in vogue)

the big cloud
from earlier
in rare patterns

spelling something

my middle
sliced, I lay back
in the shade


a certain solidarity

the blue sunrise
the broomstick

but what I thought
we could share
is astray

the windy park
last tuesday

how morning
slips into the sum

to change my mind
I look left, right

with neck and hips

the psoas, the buoy
our song

lying's link
to levitation

not a single solid


the dip in us
from behind

for now, ahead

the lapping urgency

as a piece of puzzle
the answer,
she calls it cake

Wednesday, June 10, 2020

Thursday, June 4, 2020

atoms & evening 2

we humans have an amazing 
ability not only to perceive 
different sensory stimuli but 
also to assemble multiple 
sensory stimuli into a single 
mental picture or idea. for 
example, the sound of a snake
moving through leaves is processed 
in one part of the brain, the sight 
of the moving snake is processed 
by another, the color of the snake 
by another, the feel of the snake’s 
scales by another, and the smell 
of the snake’s musk by yet another

Monday, June 1, 2020

my daughter

she was beautiful and appeared
between may 30 and 31
I was eager to show her off
my life was exactly as is
mundane corners, skin
raging, stuck here

she had blue eyes (?)
for a moment but
mostly, she belonged to no one
she shape shifted 
and I could only 
think of her

at a thrift store 
I bought her tiny doc martens
with bells, for Christmas
shopping for my daughter
just me in my body

I hoped that when she grew up
she would never feel the need
to lie about what I gave her
or did for her

I woke with her around, real

our broken hearts

being our own 

hold her close
in the streets

Saturday, May 30, 2020


my stomach turns
a question soup
how to drive off the tyrant
who lives in there

how to understand
size / scale
the sun bleached dollhouses
around the neighborhood

giants gripping
magnifying glasses overhead
and the streets have finally
burst into flames

how to really
stay with each other
drive off the tyrants
in all of us

Friday, May 29, 2020

young summer

the day cleared up too fast
rain's permission gone
for god knows

at a loss with desire
drunk with loud birds again/still

didn't set up the day
for release

casually possessed,
I turn on the piano from
the beginning
of this mess

I think of him when
scooping the chocolate chips
and when I shout at the squirrel
climbing up through
the bottom of my car

unearthing interest/

made it all the way
to the beach on
one feeling
scootering on the grass

the trees are all purple
please love me

doing the washing
to be with cool water

Thursday, May 28, 2020


the old destinations
in the neighborhood
the shut down restaurant
where we all worked
seem silly, dramatic like
ancient ruins
the sleeping windows
summer humidity
rounding off the edges
quiet streets
lights changing for no one
crossing diagonal
soft warm rain
the way the air feels
on my thin dress
bare legs
thin shoes on the sidewalk
pregnant with nostalgia
for something that wasn't
I laugh about
feeling so motherly
towards the nothing

Lakeside Park

when we had supervised visits with mom
we would meet at this depressing daycare
on Grand Ave
we would all sit on the floor together
one of those rugs with roads and street signs
it smelled like old french fries
I don’t remember what we talked about
we would play Mario Kart
there were other sad kids and parents
sticky beanbag chairs
after a certain number of visits
we were allowed to go for walks
we would go to Coffee with a Beat
I always got a poppyseed bagel with butter
I don’t remember what we talked about

Monday, May 25, 2020

square 1a

slowly drawing diamonds
(and their shadows)
coming to something like
a clearing, or at least believing
there will be one, eventually

traveling with the big song that cuts

when love can be the glint again
always right here
on my table

I observe with narrowed eyes
this glint, or whatever
the birds/sun

shoulders slumped
over love
the hot potato
swallow sharing
hide from god

still down to
change your mind
while I revisit
what I make
as love

Sunday, May 24, 2020

fluid mosaic model

wonder if the bathroom mirror
stores these bad vibes in it

my laptop's weird pulse
pretty church bells for noon

I read only 1% of our genetic material is unique
and think fuck the 1%

I miss the 57 bus
(longingly not literally)

Kayla said the days feel long with all my longing
I never acknowledged the length in that word

feel wrung out
like after swimming

I miss the overpass walkway
with the spiral ramps

walking over 580
the sound of the ocean

it curves behind Lakeview elementary
always felt like a cool secret

I miss Morcom rose garden
a random pocket in the neighborhood

the long fountain with low stair step pools
laying on the strip of grass

Saturday, May 23, 2020

4:36 am is the Tuesday of my 5-day sentence

in my juvie dream we ate busted versions
of summer foods
charred newspaper and
vanilla ice cream
in the shapes of cherries

the items were distributed

Mary was there for one day

would I get phone privileges

to keep up communication


a reproduction of our scene
spread like butter on the inside
of my forehead

it could seep out, or
it's a drive in movie


on a rare cloudy cloudy morning

Wednesday, May 20, 2020

atoms & evening

as an analogy, think 
of a football stadium:
the entire stadium is 
the atom, a marble at 
its center is its nucleus, 
and the specks of pollen 
floating around in the 
stadium are its electrons-
everything except the 
marble and the pollen 
grains is just empty 

Tuesday, May 19, 2020

remember that we are not descended from fearful men

the textbook describes
  serous membranes
    as similar to
beanbag chairs
and shows the heart
      sitting comfortably
  truly, like
we're just full
    of packing materials
I remember how
      the ancient Egyptians
preparing a mummy
     would put all the organs
   in separate jars
except the heart
      which Anubis weighed
against a feather
   to calculate
    the price of postage
for the long
to the underworld
    I bottle mine
send it
a correspondence
   a tiny boat pulled
towards Nut's mouth
   as she swallows the sun
to be reborn

Monday, May 18, 2020

many many suns

to immerse myself in the natural world
I don't even know, just
got emo re: ancestors

never even thought of how
I go back through others
because I don't believe it

today I don't believe
one single thing
that has ever happened


woke up from a jail about dream

I went to pick out my cell
the staff was pretty nice
with their keys

I saw the corners
where they stash
the tragedy

a gymnasium
a means to an end


watching the mess grow back, defeated


the moon out the window behind me
I guess summer feels like life which
I love

I'll do what? until the moon's out of sight

the motorcycle on the grass is
sleeping cat


finally slept those extra minutes
on my stomach, the blood
pooling I could
taste it in my mouth


the interpretation police
subjective blackmail
this insane fantasy


full moon is actually today
and I don't want to choose
anything over party

resist attention but

tomorrow I'm post


dream at big dining table


we assembled his grill
and made ribs

I'm breaking out

the bamboo makes a sound


watching the nightfall
with puffy clouds
one like a dick
brief neighbor fantasy

I can hardly see the page

I love picking the mint

more $ than work
where was it before


ride bike to dry
mothers day tears

L called me with
the neon crests

the ferris wheel is so us


something like the sound
of horse hooves outside

spent the night together
in my dreams, was scifi
and easy


thought about meeting people in PCH traffic

invigorating to see some water damage


how psychic am I
in the dream I knew
we were on the same side


those nights when
morning feels like
one minute ago
the bed unmade,
just a sharp
arrow to drunk


fantasy as main event
tired for fruit
woke with weird hair
lawn mower
strong gin
cucumber as


beach dream with
big hurricane

the cat eats cat grass

my heart races in

I eat papaya
the enzymes on my mom's counter


the urgency of dusk has me
skipping steps
puzzled by my own drafts

a certain safety in waiting (a circle)


bleach sky
grows dark
while I'm looking down
just feel like


a stray pokeball
in the shade of a cactus

Sunday, May 17, 2020

the new dirty

no traceable thread
for bad stomach
braiding over 
astrally speaking
from the very top 
of my head
in company 

using only the breath in my brain
if we're moving up from the bottom
from the earth

see my plant theory
for disconnection
googling their names

I've been electrocuted
I've bled from my nose
on the curb in Florida
with dad, his no-faced
bad knees

trans-gen phantoms
in the pool

more later

Saturday, May 16, 2020

Illustrious Cobweb

a mom/dad/god wind chime
an iris that is also
the 4 chambers of the heart

a cycle of abuse
a ground zero
an ascension

it's like these things 
are falling off a shelf 
and shattering in my mind

a castle/fortress
a river fixation
a deep and a shallow

a friend
a sister
a teacher


playing a youtube video on my phone
filmed in a field with bird sounds and wind

while standing really in a field
with real bird sounds and wind

the layers synch up like

soccer field mud smell
beer cans glinting
under the bleachers

Friday, May 15, 2020

bonne maman

6:05 am sun
caught in our room 
wet beams/orange bricks 
textured shadows
flat envelopes
glass dust light
the alley

my mind spoons out a map
of my grade school's playground
like apricot jam
and I fall back asleep

dream a party
where I'm dressed as
partly cloudy
my face painted
dappled blue and white

when I wake up again
the sun is higher, normal
making starburst patterns on the bricks
the windows bubble like
fish eye lenses

Tuesday, May 12, 2020

Gel Venture 7 Carrier Grey / Violet Blush vs. Gel Contend 6D

the bank's robot recites a beautiful poem
that goes

D as in Delicious
  K as in Kindness
 W as in Water
I as in Impossible

I press the pound key
to make her repeat it

Grandma R asks for my address
I start to tell her and she says

no mija
I want it in writing
mail me a card 

I ask for her address
to mail the card
and she says

I don't know it
I never write to myself

grassy hill frag

I took myself
to the site of the fantasy
which is the park
next to the community garden
it's a grassy hill
I see a horse
one horse
I came here
to see what would happen
and because I'm free
the park where I imagine
us breaking all the rules
on site I'm turned on
by the hot wind
wearing the thinnest shirt
I have, it's silk
an ancient blessing
the reality is
that the site of the fantasy
is relatively crowded
the wanderer who
keeps dropping down
close by, the dad
and his kids who arrived
with energy, ready
to retrieve something from a tree
I hate nothing more
than this kind of task
moving things around
transferring an object
from one place to another
2 horses now
a dead crow (shredded)
sticking out of the grass like
halloween or shark fin soup
I'm sure the dad saw
the shape of my boobs perfectly
because it's the thinnest shirt ever
hunching forward now
for the wanderer

the way the sun comes through
my eyelids, the sun comes in
and the wind passes by

I reject outward worship but
do it (the sun, wind)

to snap out of unfounded
love, eventually

coming home to pee

how the sun hits each leaf
like food coloring
each leaf like
a candle wick

Monday, May 11, 2020

and tonight

drove up the PCH
with sunset
u-turned after

thought about sex and cried
everything that's wrong
all the cones etc.
the sleeping, spinning lights

thought of all the times
I've done this drive
in groups
with wet clothes

I got out at Venice
the wide, unwelcoming shore
now dark and busy

I saw the plankton glowing
in the crests of the waves
me and everybody else

I saw the heart on the ferris wheel
and the heart reflected in the runoff

once I got so high at this beach
that I drove away with
my wallet on top of the car
it had $300 cash inside
the only money to my name
working for the street artist
at the Chateau Marmont
we made these show posters
with dream lineups but
the vinyl stickers came fucked up
people got seriously on the phone about it
in French, shouting "Bod Dylan"

there's a photo of me and Ty
with T and K stickers on our foreheads

the wallet stayed on my car because
the roof rack

Saturday, May 9, 2020

Friday, May 8, 2020

5 (the hypnotist) and 8

undone by the hypnotist
her hostage
she said she only
hypnotizes herself

but when my brain
aches I eat walnuts
resembling brains

I'm undone because
your kaleidoscope


offended by our neighbor
who we call Jeff
letting me know
our flowers are

cancelled but surveilled

a bigger strip of dirt/
the idea of being enough

healing, my friend says to
her daughter, you're healthy
cut, her daughter keeps saying
scab, my friend says, healing


covid world is bruised
I cry at all times of day

everything is
what trickles in through the screen

square after square shows
Ahmaud Arbery

flowers spill on the sidewalks
raindrops temper our sleeping

and America murders
like a phone off the hook

Thursday, May 7, 2020

A Laughable Party

Liverpoor? Sot a bit of it! His braynes coolt parritch, his pelt nassy, his heart's adrone, his bluidstreams acrawl, his puff but a piff, his extremities extremely so: Fengless, Pawmbroke, Chilblaimend and Baldowl. Humph is in his doge. Words weigh no more to him than raindrips to Rethfernhim. Which we all like. Rain. When we sleep. Drops. But wait until our sleeping. Drain. Sdops.

Monday, May 4, 2020

Bigger Garden 4

caught making sense
line breaks open 
windows, world bubbles
between rose city and me
all toasted candy

earlier, I wrote some
bullshit I mean fiction 
about this time 
last year— yearning
when I took her to the bar
with dust

she stirs with songs
wakes up with the sun 
turning on like an oven

there are sprouts
better than my garden
along the garage walls

patience with

turned on by
squishing letters

touching on 
as the only 
viable transition

Sunday, May 3, 2020

Spilltears Rue

the irony of mom
quarantined in a town called
"Truth or Consequences"
while she faces neither

the plastic dollhouse
in the bent tall grass
sunsetting through it
pink and yellow

birds swarming pastel froot loops
scattered on the sidewalk
dream of collecting a rattlesnake's venom
to poison the landlord

with me

intention today is
to be like that huge, 
obscene rose

I don’t remember
discussing the balsamic moon
but you said so

to feign synchronicity
w/ data suggesting 
my going off

I still really,
really love you
singing all these
big deals, I really
hope upward

my control panel, wet
dream of a ballad

was it stardom?
was it vulnerable

I love, earlier I thought
I love
an idea like
your regular pillow
I’m still 
the obscene rose
the omniscient intention
to have everyone be 
in really, really
still love 

Saturday, May 2, 2020


night notes

at 2 am I turn out the light
and my body vanishes
my mind is an ember
dim, pulsing

I'm solving, searching
the 1,2,3 of it
percolating a theory
about the beginning
the adamneve of it

I jumble all I've learned
I don't want to be touched
an ember on the pillow
I roll it around
the imperialist core
the bad apple

my bitter neighbor
the relentless wind
I revise my diary
vanity's scribblings

a man's voice floats
up from the park
singing, raving
he's all around us
reverberating in the alley

I register him as a part of me
roaming, reeling
then resting a while
on may day, a diagram
of relationships
extraction and empire

I'm certain
I've learned something
but I wake up
at the beginning

seeking a sunspot
to turn to stone in
a river to merge with
a tree to grow
around me

Wednesday, April 29, 2020


some kind of sword
to fall upon
feeling hyphy
like a rag doll
or a tumbleweed

Tuesday, April 28, 2020

you you and you

new pen in the sun
besides, the sun
is the best artist
so, really you
and I
ate some cake
today the sun
is uplifting, loud

I hope it's the cake
and not the unprotection

my whole life
I kept my mess in check
just haven't made one
that time she said
you don't have to clean up
and I wept

you might
know who you are


I recorded a dream
in emergency red pen
on the back of my flash
dad's torso covered in
ratchet acrostics
I envied them
he wore a towel
and behaved like a fly
when I came with my case
buzz jumping
shape shifting


that day we sat around
drinking coffee in the esun
as if cute, rare

you sweating in
NY clothes
good to boil a little
I thought missing
you a lil

Monday, April 27, 2020

state and rev

Society, which will reorganize production on the basis of a free and equal association of producers, will put the whole machinery of state where it will then belong: into a museum of antiquities, by the side of the spinning wheel and the bronze axe.

Sunday, April 26, 2020

thing theory

did I make this void?

all I wanted was more time
to read
to vanish

a jump rope
sex in 3rd person

my mind goes walking
down to Jennifer Grocery

the vinyl siding
fabuloso and campbell's cans floating
through a digital window

we’re nothing 
but the effect we have on others
or rather
a collection of effects

did I make this?
parallel U

did I make this
phone call
to my soul?

echoes in a well
graffiti dancing on the surface
of the digital window

I get choked up
corresponding with my spirit
thinking about who
my spirit corresponds to

did my mind make you?
and yours made me?

Kayla in her digital window
flat and solid
we talk till it turns
from blue to black


I told her I was writing about walls

how I felt strong earlier
now that I think about it

what about reporting/
with the language I wash

the claw that won't
get the toy

reporting what really
happened were
shifts in focus

see strangers
draw the globe
and another

she calls me from the tenants union

this is she, I say, I'm stoned, Mary, we laugh
we always laugh
on monkdom
the collective weight
of internalists
draw another globe
for example

look who just showed up at setting

Saturday, April 25, 2020

don't sit down to write a poem but I want to

I must say, summer
is here like the rain 
was 100%
long everything
dear April's 

open window night
cold shower
cold noodle
dead phone
your cold
part like

how many
principle contradictions?

who is...your?

try variety but
no other song
cuts it like 
there are times!
when I look above! 
and beyond!

Wednesday, April 22, 2020

bow out

coffee becomes wine becomes coffee
and the wind is haunted

blowing the sun just out of reach again
chase it like a hat flown off

what would be groovy and liberatory 
for a person to read?

what’s a projection
and what’s solid?

what am I taking for granted as permanent?

there’s lots of different kinds
of “two kinds of people in this world”

and you can suck on the hard candy
of an “always” or a “never”

but I prefer the softness of a noun
“pocketbook” is like
a saltwater taffy

it can hold the whole day
zipped in a deep corner

Tuesday, April 21, 2020

lotta lawbreakers

poem today
is breaking
light like
see below
for between

the night upon me like
a fucking weight
conjuring ambiance
with a song [an ad]
one plate of dinner
her fork clinks
hold on

I'm back
from the last blue
now it's just night
which goes on

I want my body
to do the talking
 unbutton top
 lids at half mast
the shadows of
how my hair sits

the cashier said
do you also 
have a love 
for baggy clothes?
I said what
because her
plastic shield
baggy clothes,
they are so

the rhythm exists
between longing and
the song, or
like Mary said
between the house
and everything else

writing in the margins
of can't hear myself think

Monday, April 20, 2020

till we're all free

a licorice night
shiny windows

my soul slips out
lingers by the river

drawing thick lines
with toxic ink

the fumes, the flute, my soul
slips out

I tie it first to my waste
it slides down to my ankles

wet and shaped like
a comma

sew it to my foot
like wendy

how to write a song
with the texture of wind

ride a note sidesaddle
into a candy story

licorice night
shiny windows

Sunday, April 19, 2020

home is the head

westerns are a language
I’m not fluent in

but I want to go back
stand in the middle
of a dusty main street

we all want to be a child again
even the worst of us
perhaps the worst most of all

two pale yellow scorpions
writhing in red ants

in the books we'll say
the time before Covid
and the big question mark

there were clothes on the line
there was the smell of the basement
there was affirmation
in our joblessness

there was screen poisoning
and time travel
to your childhood home

I don’t miss
the places I used to go
or the way I would go to them

gripping ambient worry
boring concern

I long to try
something I've never had

shedding a time
when the questions
were theoretical

Thursday, April 16, 2020

loose translation

I always leave the party so lucid
never drenched in it/who’s 
cleaning up
even my bulletin board is earnest

woke up from a big [party]
no memory but will write
it down on a paper 
towel, who’s 

to walk out on my mind
into the dirty world
free of consequence

starting to write
starting to sprout
starting to be
an old, hourly way
this place at 1, 2, 3 pm

starting to think, 
theoretically, about
how the cowboy said
never go to your room
in the daytime

the birdsongs
from the wings
the theater 
of the livelong day

the way its all moving 
the wind 

warbling the rosebush
petting my curtains
I’m blaming everything
on the wind today, everything!
its clinging outfit

I am the snowcap 
of mountain 1a

empathy measured
in obvious veins
the look of my bed 
[the stacked edge]
has me hungry for 
another character

I once played a lost boy
and now

my minds? been gone
a vagabond, she visits 

phone to feel party

as for the sun
it’s earlier across the street
working for them like
a good oven, in circles
I move my chair to chase it
they throw balls through its rays